


i took this love and i took it down

by la_victorienne



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-31
Updated: 2009-01-31
Packaged: 2018-10-16 01:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10560714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_victorienne/pseuds/la_victorienne
Summary: a vacation, a dinner, a night.  something truly amazing.





	

Ianto wakes just as they arrive at the out of the way house, blinking in wonderment at the snow-covered hills around him and the long-absent sensation of true refreshment, energy heightened neither by caffeine nor adrenaline. Jack looks over at him and smiles indulgently; he's taken this trip with every other member of his team, including Gwen, and it never fails to illuminate something different. Ianto he waited on, for one reason or another, until finally when he noticed that more of his clothes lived at Ianto's flat than the Hub, when more of his nights were spent together than apart, he conceded it might just be time to show Ianto to the Cabin.

Winter is the best time to come, although autumn is a close second; he brought Gwen in summer so there would be little need to share body heat, just one more way he's grown into leadership since she started challenging him. Here, he and Owen battled; here, he and Toshiko kissed; here, he and Suzie fucked. Here, he and Gwen cried.

Here, he and Ianto will make love.

It's dusty on the inside and warms nicely with a wood fire; there are plenty of blankets and mugs and all the provisions for a warm winter weekend. Jack fondly calls it his hidey-hole, and as he grandly sweeps the door open and ushers Ianto inside, Ianto can see why. It's a family-oriented place, somewhere someone clearly used to live, now left in comfortable disrepair. Attractively Spartan, warm tones and dark wood, Ianto, too, feels at home here, wandering through the few rooms while Jack brings in supplies from the SUV. For a moment, he thinks, it's like they're on a normal holiday, a normal couple, a normal relationship. He wonders if Jack is as inclined to pretend such as he is.

He finds his answer watching Jack tinker with the fireplace, the fire-lighting, he suspects, Jack's favourite part of coming to this cabin. As sparks flicker under Jack's fingers, tinder lights and logs catch, he reads in Jack's shoulders utter relaxation, a release from the obligations of the entire world, and when Jack turns and stands, fingers sooty and smile wide and genuine, Ianto just catches hold of his face and kisses his mouth. Jack folds willingly into the kiss, his sooty hands making tracks on Ianto's clean jumper, his nose pressing the chill into Ianto's cheek. When they pull back he is smiling still.

Jack washes his hands, puts the kettle on, makes apocalyptic noises about making dinner before Ianto absolves him of that duty and starts rummaging in the groceries. They eat close at the little table, laughing and smiling and kissing between bites, and Jack clears the table and pours the wine when they're done.

"Leave it," he says, when Ianto gets up to clean the kitchen. "It'll keep," he says, and holds out a hand, warm and rough and dry. Ianto doesn't hesitate for a moment – if this is what this cabin is for, this is what it should be for – and Jack tugs him to sit on the sofa in front of the fire, wrapped in careful companionship with a flannel blanket over their feet. Leaning against Jack's chest Ianto feels safer than ever before, easy and painless and cosy. Is this what Jack wanted him to find? A place of peace, of light in the darkness? Is this Jack's gift to him, a place to come when he disappears again? Or is Ianto simply reading too much into everything, unused to Jack's capacity to be a proper boyfriend? He stops wondering when Jack presses a kiss to the skin below his ear.

They unfold from the sofa, long legs stretching and creaking as they fold the blanket together – palm to palm is holy palmers kiss, Ianto thinks – and leave the wine glasses where they sit on the table. Jack locks fingers with him, pulls him up the spiral stairs, laughs like a child when they both stumble, reaching for each other. Jack looks at Ianto softly when he opens the bedroom door and sees the wide bay window, overlooking the crest of the hill and a dense, white-capped forest.

"This place is beautiful," Ianto finally says, and Jack never looks away from his face to breathe "beautiful." Ianto slides his gaze away, and to Jack, and charges forward hungrily, clasping Jack's face between his palms with his brow furrowed, pressing as close as he can. Jack's hands land on his biceps and he groans into Ianto's mouth, the first reveal of the entire day of how much Jack wants him – a pure, unadulterated want that sends frissons down Ianto's spine as the sound reverberates through his toes. They take these moments slow, leisurely tugging clothes out of the way, discarding trousers and socks and pants and shirts until they're ready to slide under the cold-fresh sheets, legs tangling and cheeks inflamed.

If their previous encounters seemed easy to Ianto, it's because at any one time or another one of them was in charge. Now, more than ever, they're on equal footing, and if Jack seems hesitant, it's because he's giving up control. They slide and grapple and kiss and wrestle and suddenly Jack is on his back, his legs splayed, looking up at Ianto in the most incredible way, all soft and desperate and wanting and wanton, and Ianto just closes his eyes and dives in. Slicks up, slides inside to the base, Jack's knees over his hips and Jack's hands on his biceps, and they're both stuck in a sort of terror for a moment, until their eyes meet and Ianto finds it within himself to smile and Jack finds it within himself to squeeze, and then there's no going back, an elaborate fall from grace into the brightest, most brilliant misery available to them. Nothing has ever hurt so much and so well, and Ianto drops his mouth to Jack's just as he feels his entire body tightening. But Jack comes first, without warning, his fingers grasping tightly Ianto's arms and his chin jutting forward into the kiss, and Ianto is done for, coming for what seems like forever, moment after moment of agonizing ecstasy.

When he finally drops forward, disentangles himself, feels himself settling even into the mess, he is exhausted and peaceful, blissfully happy. Jack holds him tightly for a few moments before rising for a warm flannel and a glass of water, and when he returns he slides under the covers again, wrapping his arms around Ianto again.

"You're staying," Ianto mumbles, already half-asleep. Jack nods and kisses the bend of his neck and shoulder.

"I'll clean the kitchen when you're asleep, be back in bed before you wake. I won't go anywhere else." Ianto nods and curls into Jack's touch, drifting into something like oblivion.


End file.
